THE OLD MAN in the Sea of Game Development

Yes, I admit it—I was a “pet shop boy” in the ’80s. But not the cool ones with synthesizers on the radio. No, I was an East End boy without a West End girl, armed instead with a fish net, 20-sided dice, and a pocket full of quarters. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine, and it all felt just right.

The aquarium store was my kingdom. By day, I wrangled fish, designed elaborate reef systems, and turned splashing water into customer smiles. Who needs romance when you’re elbow-deep in bristle worms and clownfish? My pièce de résistance? Inviting customers to pick their perfect fish from a darting, shimmering school while I dove in with the precision (and flair) of a gladiator wielding a net. It was chaotic, messy, and utterly delightful.

By night, my friends and I rolled dice. We were OG nerds, holed up in basements with our Dungeons & Dragons manuals, pizza boxes, and enough snacks to fuel a small city. Paladins, wizards, trolls—every sleepless night was an epic quest. I hoarded graph paper like a dragon with gold, sketching maps of dungeons no one had asked for but everyone loved.

By day you’d find me at the local pool (no sunscreen required back then), where hours melted away in endless games of Marco Polo under the summer sun. The water soaked up our laughter, and we swam until our eyes stung from chlorine and the day blurred into a warm, hazy memory.

And then there was the arcade—the neon-lit sanctuary of my youth. It was 1984, and I was that kid, pencil wedged between my fingers, furiously button-mashing like it was an Olympic event. My game of choice? Spy Hunter. But in my sketchbook, it became something entirely different—a redesign I called SeaHunter. Gone was the car speeding down the highway; in its place, James Bond’s underwater Lotus, weaving through neon reefs, dodging sharks and torpedoes. Even back then, my imagination dove deep, drawn to the ocean—a limitless world where anything felt possible.

But life has a way of steering you into unexpected waters. My dream of becoming a marine biologist hit a wall called dyslexia. School felt like trying to swim against a riptide. So, I pivoted. I traded fish nets for sketchbooks and found myself at Sheridan College, where illustration became my lifeline. Art didn’t care about my spelling mistakes; it let me create freely, and I leaned into it.

Fast forward a few decades, and I’ve worn many hats: illustrator, designer, entrepreneur, producer and indie game developer. Along the way, I built worlds—whether they were for games, interactive experiences, or even second-screen kids' TV shows. But no matter what I created, I kept circling back to underwater worlds.

That’s how Debris was born—a haunting co-op game about survival in the depths. It was atmospheric and beautiful, but also dark and heavy. When we finished it, I wanted something lighter, something that captured the joy of summers spent in the pool and the thrill of the arcade. Something fast, fluid, and neon-bright.

Enter Tidal Shock

We launched into Early Access with all the hope in the world, and at first, it seemed like we had something special. Players loved the zero-gravity combat, the sprawling arenas, the speed. The reviews were glowing. But I made the classic rookie mistake: no marketing plan. For a multiplayer game, that’s a death sentence. The lobbies emptied, the buzz faded, and the game became unplayable for the handful of players still trying to log in. It was heartbreaking.

In true indie fashion, we panicked. We pivoted to other projects, chasing the next idea. There was Unbreached, a co-op horde shooter with sea monsters, and Boilers, a PvPvE extraction game. They were cool concepts, but neither felt like home. Eventually, we stopped running and faced the truth: Tidal Shock was unfinished, but it wasn’t done.

So, we went back. We polished every corner, overhauled the graphics, added progression systems and new game modes, and will make the leap to free-to-play. This was our second chance to bring the dream to life—a game that combined the joy of arcade action, the creativity of D&D, and the wonder of underwater worlds.

Now, as we prepare for Tidal Shock: Off the Hook’s full release, I can’t help but feel like this is the culmination of everything I’ve ever loved. It’s fast, fluid, and just a little bit ridiculous—exactly how I hoped it would be.

One Last Roll of the Dice

So, here I am: the old man in the sea of game dev, rolling the dice one more time. I’m not sure what the future holds, but I know this: making Tidal Shock has been the journey of a lifetime. It’s my love of the ocean, the arcade, and the joy of building fantastical worlds rolled into one neon-lit package.

To anyone out there chasing dreams, take it from this old man in the sea of game dev: it’s worth it. Every twist, every failure, every moment of doubt—it all leads to something fulfilling. So dive in, make waves, and don’t let go of the things that light you up.

Plunge into gravity-defying combat, customize your look, master dynamic maps, and team up for high-speed tactical battles.
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As a dyslexic designer, I use tools like ChatGPT to help refine my thoughts and communicate clearly. What I share comes from my experiences and passion—AI is just a tool, not a replacement for authenticity. Thank you for supporting indie creators like me.